Tales of Golbez
by Princess Coeurl
Summary: FFIV A collection of moments from Theodore/Golbez's life Written for a Word of the Day challenge
1. The Best of Worlds

Word: panglossian - adj - marked by the view that all is for the best in this best of possible worlds; excessively optimistic

Life was good for Theodore Harvey. To him the world was a remote corner of Mysidia, but it was his world and he was its prince. With few other children, and none as young as he, he was the village's darling child, even despite his family being such obvious outsiders.

He had a loving parents: a smiling mother and caring father. He had to share them now, true, but Theodore preferred to think of what fun they would have, he and his younger brother. His parents had promised it would be, once the baby was old enough.

He couldn't wait.


	2. Dust to Dust

Word: chastise - verb - 1: to inflict punishment on (as by whipping); 2: to censure severely; castigate

Golbez was hungry. He'd been in the wilderness for days now, wandering through the serpent's road and then back. Why he'd come back was a mystery to him; he should have no attachment to the place where both his parents had been murdered. And yet he crouched here, in the bushes, staring out at the cottage of one of his former neighbors and practically drooling over the wonderful scents drifting out to him through the open window.

"If you need the food, then go take it. Nothing will be accomplished but sitting here in pointless indecision."

He started as the voice spoke in his head. He was beginning to get used to it, but it was hard to be so quickly rid of years of experience having a physical person to speak to.

Golbez shook his head. "Stealing is wrong. Father told me so."

"Did he also say not to kill? And yet you did, without bringing in pointless questions of morality."

"That was different." It was. The baby had deserved it, for killing mother. "These people have stolen nothing from me, so I cannot steal from them."

"But they have. Are these not the same people who robbed your father from you? In truth, you are being merciful in merely taking their food and not their lives for what they have done."

It was true. While he did not recall this house's inhabitants in the mob, his father had been killed so close to here that there was no way they could not have heard.

Golbez felt blood rushing to his head. These people were murderers, or as good as. He deserved to take their food, and much more, just as the Voice said.

And yet still he hesitated. Stealing was wrong, and the old woman who lived in that house had given him sweets once when she'd found him sitting, dejected, after once more failing at the white magic his father so valued.

"Go," the Voice commanded.

After hanging back a second more, he crept forward. The window was just the right height for him to peek over the weathered sill into the house.

A pie rested on the table, easily within reach. The thick fragrance of cooked peaches surrounded him, making him want to lunge for the pie and stuff the entire thing into his mouth right there. Instead he took another second to make sure no one was coming - they weren't - before reaching through the window, grabbing warm pastry and sprinting back to his spot in the trees.

Settling down just out of sight of the house, Golbez brought his prize to his mouth, huge smile stretching across his small face. He didn't feel guilty at all. Those people deserved it, and now he would finally have something to eat.

He opened his mouth to take a bite and the pie burst into flames. The boy yelped, dropping the burning object as he scrambled backwards, looking for his attacker but seeing no one. He glanced back to the house in fear, but it was as still as before.

"You should not have hesitated." The Voice was seething, clearly furious and not moved by the tears sliding down Golbez's face as he stared at his meal, which was quickly being reduced to a lump of charcoal. "I have been kind, have told you all you need to know, and given you your revenge. And now you _will_ obey my command. You will not hesitate again."

Golbez nodded, shrinking away from the charred patch of ground and looking back towards the cottage through stinging eyes. He was so hungry...

"Now go and get yourself some food," the Voice hissed. "Do whatever you need to do to get it."

And Golbez ran for the house, thinking only of the food he would wrench for the murderers' cold fingers, if he had to, and not at all of the last of his freedom burned and lying in the dirt.


	3. Trifling

Word: magniloquent - adj - speaking in or characterized by a high-flown often bombastic style or manner

Goblez didn't turn as Rubicante approached, keeping his eyes on his work. He didn't make a terribly impressive sight, he knew, standing over a pot with clothes worn and tunic quite a bit too short. It had been a while since he'd been near a human settlement, and he seemed to be outgrowing his clothing rather quickly these days. Were he more certain of the effect his magic would have he'd have sped up the process to spare himself the bother.

The relative coolness of his back disappeared as the Lord of Fire approached. Rubicante looked over Golbez's shoulder, face as impassive as always.

"What use have you for cooking?" While the voice sounded bored, Golbez knew Rubicante to be a bit more interested in the habits of mortals than was perhaps wise for one of his nature.

Still, he had few enough companions to speak with, and Zemus had ordered him to regularly exercise his voice so it would be at the ready when he confronted the humans. So he gave the bubbling pot a stir and a sniff, saying, "The imps the master provides have their uses, but their skills at food preparation leave much to be desired. I merely wished a meal I could stomach."

He could feel Rubicante drifting away even before he finished speaking.

"If you mean only to speak such folderol then I have no purpose here. Summon me should you have need."

There was a puff of smoke and the Fiend was gone. Golbez pursed his lips. While the fact the Fire Lord had called him a liar (he thought, anyway; he'd have to look up that word the next time he had the chance) annoyed him, it bothered him less than his own transparency. After all, hobbies were not a luxury he was afforded.

Pulling the spoon from the pot, he blew on it lightly and tasted it. Mm, good, but missing something.

If only he'd tasted it earlier. He could have asked the Fire Fiend to fetch him some rosemary.


	4. A Matter of Upbringing

Warning: Spoilers from the end of the game

Word: phony - adj - not genuine or real

A/N: I love how FFIV plays up certain issues while completely ignoring others. Like how FuSoYa is kinda like "Oh yeah, btw, you're not human," but Cecil focuses completely on that Oh! he suddenly has a father, and Oh no! he suddenly has a brother. It's understandable, since those things would be a lot less surreal for him, but I can't help but think that it would have affected him, even if he didn't think about it.

Golbez never understood why his brother was so intent on appearing human. Humans were weak compared to Lunarians. Superior heritage was something to be flaunted and used, not hidden as if it was something shameful. Though this war had been caused by outside forces, Cecil's precious humans did quite well enough on his own.

Had Cecil's decision been based on logic, Golbez thought he wouldn't have been left quite as puzzled as he was. After all, humans were fearful creatures, likely to reject those superior to themselves out of concern for their own safety. That was how it had been for their father.

But no, it seemed Cecil was the one who was afraid. And not for his life, but that these people would not let him help them if they knew. Golbez could not fathom this reasoning, and had told his brother so on several occasions. Cecil had merely chuckled sadly, and asked what good it would do to tell them.

Golbez had stayed his answer, that this was merely an excuse his brother was hiding behind, and had pretended to agree. Telling Cecil wouldn't do any good either.


End file.
